


the crown of it was fire

by blackkat



Series: ShunStarrk Drabbles [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, First Meetings, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Lilynette’s fingers tighten on his uniform, and her breath trembles out of her.Starrk can sense it, too. The captainburnsin their mind, a bonfire, a falling star. Like a shadow that’s also a blaze, and Starrk wants to warm his hands in that hot darkness, to touch it, to wrap himself in it.Enemy, he thinks, but—Sentinel, beneath it, and that’s a thousand times more meaningful.





	the crown of it was fire

“Well,” the Shinigami says, tipping his hat back. “ _This_ is unexpected.”

Starrk would answer, except he can't quite breathe. Except everything in his head has gone still and silent and _calm_ for the first time he can ever remember. He takes a staggering step forward, feeling his knees almost give way, and it’s only Lilynette grabbing his belt that keeps him on his feet.

“You—” he starts, but can't get another word out, and Lilynette is frozen equally still and silent beside him, her eye wide.

Dark eyes flicker over him, sweep down. “Ah,” the captain says in a tone of enlightenment. “That was a projection, then? I thought it was all reiatsu.”

Starrk breathes in, closes his eyes. Too strong for shielding, Szayel told him, and Starrk already knew that from years and years with only Lilynette able to bear being close to him. Empathic sense turned into a weapon, broadcasting instead of receiving, and Starrk's presence is enough to drive people mad. He’s always known that.

And yet, here and now, this captain _stopped him_.

A step, light on empty air, and Lilynette makes a sharp sound. Shoves Starrk back, and he’s so startled that he lets her, stumbles as she inserts herself between Starrk and the captain.

“Back off!” she orders, but Starrk can hear the fear under the fury. “Leave Starrk alone, you jerk!”

“Maa,” the captain says, somewhere between soothing and protesting his innocence. He raises a hand, empty of a weapon, and takes another step closer. “Your shields are down.”

“They’ve never been up,” Starrk says honestly. He wants to glance back, to look for Aizen, who told him that he was born a Guide who had no need of a Sentinel, born special, powerful. That shields like the ones Starrk coveted—solid, able to contain the force of his power, thick enough not to drive other souls out of their minds with a few hours’ exposure—were impossible for him.

Maybe they are. Right now, though, all Starrk can feel is the captain’s quiet amusement, the touch of wonder underneath. How intent he is, how focused, how intrigued. He can feel it like they're his own emotions, and he has to shake himself.

Lilynette’s fingers tighten on his uniform, and her breath trembles out of her.

Starrk can sense it, too. The captain _burns_ in their mind, a bonfire, a falling star. Like a shadow that’s also a blaze, and Starrk wants to warm his hands in that hot darkness, to touch it, to wrap himself in it. _Enemy_ , he thinks, but—

 _Sentinel_ , beneath it, and that’s a thousand times more meaningful. The words resonate against his bones, and Starrk reaches out before he can help himself.

The captain catches his hand, pulls him in, and for an instant Starrk can feel his reiatsu like a weight, the perfect complement to Starrk's own. Vast, overpowering, but the captain’s at least is tightly leashed and held back. Starrk has never been able to manage as much, and he closes his fingers over the Shinigami's, tests the edges of his power and finds them like marble, solid and unyielding.

“How—” he starts, but doesn’t know how to finish.

A fingertip touches his temple, and the man pulls him in until he can drop his forehead against Starrk's. The closeness makes Starrk jerk, something like alarm rising, but the captain’s face is calm, his emotions untouched by any sort of threat. “You can read me, can't you, Primera?” he asks lightly, and from behind him his white-haired companion takes a startled breath.

“Everyone,” Starrk admits, because it’s true. Even Aizen’s shields can't keep him out entirely; Starrk assumes it’s one of the reasons Aizen never lingers close to him, and that used to sting, but—

It makes the man chuckle, and he isn't even trying to pull away. “To think that Aizen’s been sitting on such a powerful Guide,” he says cheerfully. “I'm surprised he didn’t snap you up for himself.”

“He’s not a Sentinel,” Starrk says, and Aizen hides it well, never confirms or denies his status, but Starrk can tell. “He isn't a Guide, either.”

Dark eyes widen, but the captain doesn’t move. “I guess it’s true that you learn something new every day,” he jokes, and his hand slips free of Starrk's, settles on his waist instead. Closes his eyes, careful, slow, and says, “Do you want shields?”

“Yes,” Starrk answers quietly, the greatest understatement possible. But— “Aizen said it wasn’t possible.”

A shadow slides across the captain’s face, something dark and dangerous that raises the hairs on the back of Starrk's neck. “Did he.” It’s nowhere near a question. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that little Sōsuke isn't anything close to an expert on Sentinels or Guides, Primera.”

The relief of those words is gutting, bewildering. Starrk can feel Lilynette, tucked close to his side, go stiff, and her wary attention sharpens. She doesn’t even attempt to protest, just slides a step closer and asks, “It’s really possible?”

The captain hums, but his eyes don’t waver from Starrk's. “Very possible,” he says lightly, and winks. “I've made a study of all the many alternative methods.”

“Shunsui,” the white-haired captain says, exasperated, and Shunsui laughs. Starrk rolls his eyes, entirely able to recognize the innuendo. He can't bring himself to care about it, though, not really. And—

Reiatsu flares behind him, surges like an incoming tide, and he tenses just slightly. Wants to look back to where the other Espada are fighting, but also doesn’t; Shunsui was meant to be his opponent, his enemy, and by all rights Starrk should be trying to kill him right now, even with the revelation that he _belongs_ to Starrk in the way only a Sentinel can. If Aizen sees, if Aizen _cares_ —

But that’s the sticking point, always. Aizen doesn’t care and never has. He’s never cared to find a way for Starrk to control his empathy, has never attempted to find Harribel her match. Dampened her senses, instead, and the knowledge sits heavy and uncomfortable in Starrk's gut. He looks down at Lilynette, finds her looking back with her fingers still tangled in his robe, and sighs as he lets his eyes fall shut. This is a pain. He’d wanted to fake a fight, take things easy, and now it’s the exact opposite of that.

 _I found my Sentinel_ , something in him whispers, a curl like satisfaction, and he doesn’t have anything close to a Sentinel’s senses but he breathes in like he can imprint Shunsui on his psyche anyway. Shunsui’s mind is even clearer, shadows and light against his thoughts, touched with the weight of age and the deliberate, determined grace of someone unafraid to use any means necessary. There are shades of that, in this, a touch of _this is a good alternative to a fight, this is useful_ , but Starrk can feel other things beneath it, too. A little bit of wonder, a touch of _mine now, you can't leave_ , and a thread of humor like a phosphorus flame in the dark.

“Just like that,” Shunsui says, not quite gentle. Firm, steady, and the shadow-wash of his power is like an incoming tide. “Anchor yourself to me and I’ll provide shields for both of us.”

“That doesn’t seem like a sustainable solution,” Starrk says dryly, but he does it anyway. Shunsui’s mind isn't jagged, but it’s _sharp_ , and Starrk wraps himself around the cutting edges, lets his thoughts blanket Shunsui’s. Not a complete mingling, not quite—they're still distinct, still separate people—but it’s the closest Starrk has ever gotten.

“It’s not,” Shunsui agrees easily. “But for the middle of a fight it’s enough.” He closes his eyes for a long moment, and Starrk can feel curiosity, amusement, a touch of chagrin that feels like _Yama-jii is going to murder me_. Underneath it all, though, is a sharper, heavier sense of _relief-warmth-want_ , and an overlaying _my Guide_.

Starrk isn't the only one who’s been looking, it seems.

Like he can feel that thought, Shunsui smiles, crooked but warm. “I think we can end this fight,” he says quietly. “What do you say?”

Starrk glances down at Lilynette, and she nods once, determined. “If you let the Arrancar return to Hueco Mundo,” he says.

“Shunsui,” the other captain starts. “Yamamoto will—”

“Yama-jii will be more than happy to focus on Aizen,” Shunsui says lightly. “And you know it. It’s a good deal.”

“I would ask if you know what you're doing,” the white-haired man says, as dry as dust, “but I already know the answer to that.”

Shunsui laughs. “Everyone’s so cruel to me,” he tells Starrk, pouting. “See?”

Starrk glances at the other captain, who offers him a kind smile. “I think you likely deserve it,” he retorts.

With a grin, Shunsui rubs his stubbly jaw. “I'm perfect in every way” he denies, and offers Starrk his hand. “Care to help me end a war, Guide?”

Something in Starrk whispers, not quite words but—warm shadows. Drowning darkness, with a point of light held deep inside of it. “None of us ever wanted a war,” he says, and it’s the entire truth. Even Barragan didn’t want to throw himself at Soul Society and draw out the Captain-Commander and all of his strongest Shinigami. Starrk takes a breath, sets his hand in Shunsui’s, and he can feel the way their power twists and braids together. His reiatsu and his empathy both have always been vast but undirected, and within the careful bounds of Shunsui’s Sentinel senses it’s being honed, pressed into a blade. Together their reiatsu should be a thousand times more uncontrollable, doubled and surging outside its bonds, but instead it’s just enough control to refine it.

Starrk has never felt this before. Even when he and Lilynette split, even when she took half of his power and they could finally exist close to other souls for at least a few hours, it was never this simple. He can feel her, tangled up in their web, adding her own strength, but it’s still not too much, still not deadly. Just—strong.

Starrk's never wanted to be strong, but like this, shared and wound together, with Shunsui’s mind so close to his own, he thinks he can endure it.

“There,” Shunsui says, and his smile is a tiger’s, all threat and buried power. “Like that gun of yours, isn't it?”

It is. Starrk smiles, and turns his head. Aizen’s death in exchange for the Arrancar escaping. In exchange for Starrk finding his Sentinel, and escaping the lies.

“Exactly like,” he says, and Aizen is looking away, grandstanding, ignoring the Espada as they fight and die for him.

Shunsui’s fingers tighten around Starrk's, and Starrk breathes out, lifts his head, and kisses Shunsui hard.

He pulls the trigger.


End file.
